


Hassock

by Emphysematous



Series: Extra Time [3]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, Deep Throating, Established Relationship, Following instructions, M/M, Masturbation, Tommy Shelby in a mood, explicitly requesting to be treated like crap, getting off on the weirdest things, references to actual historical events, strong D/s themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:56:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29743242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emphysematous/pseuds/Emphysematous
Summary: Tommy comes home from a long day in an absolutely filthy mood. Alfie takes a long-winded way to go about cheering him up.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Series: Extra Time [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030875
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	Hassock

**Author's Note:**

> For koipondering, who poked me into turning this from an idea into an actual fic. 
> 
> Two things. Alfie's house is on three levels: kitchen, scullery, WC on the ground floor; parlour, dining room and study on the first floor; bedrooms and bathrooms on the second floor.
> 
> Also: This fic contains the Welsh word 'cwtch', which kinda rhymes with 'butch', and is basically a comforting non-sexual cuddle. There may well be typos in here, but that word isn't one of them!

* * *

He’d heard the scritch of the key in the lock, so Alfie didn’t jump when the front door slammed closed a moment later, even though the force of it made the picture frames rattle on the wall. “That you, treacle?” he asked without looking up from his ledgers, as if anyone else was going to be waltzing into his house and making a racket like that.

Downstairs, Tommy’s staccato footsteps echoed on the tile as he took off his hat and coat, but there was no other response. Alfie leaned sideways in his chair and called down through the open door. “There’s a pot in the oven, love. Grab yourself a plate if you’re hungry, yeah?” 

Tommy’s only reply was to walk off towards the kitchen. Alfie pursed his lips. Granted, Tommy was not much of a talker, but he usually said  _ something _ when he got in. Grumbling under his breath, Alfie pushed back his chair and shoved himself to his feet. He walked stiffly to the bannister - he’d been sitting still for far too long, all his joints had locked in place - and leaned on it to peer down into the hallway. Tommy reappeared and began climbing the stairs. Alfie nodded a greeting. “You alright, petal?”

The smallest of shrugs and a hint of a grunt was all the acknowledgement he got, and then Tommy was walking past him, disappearing into the parlour. Behind his back, Alfie rolled his eyes. Tommy Shelby in a mood. What a fucking delight. “Long day, was it?”, Alfie asked in a bright tone that he knew would piss Tommy off even more. Unsurprisingly, there was no reply.  _ Rude fucking cunt _ .

When Tommy returned Alfie reached out and physically grabbed him by the upper arm. “Oi. Come here.” Tommy turned towards him but looked over his head, face obstinately blank. Alfie poked him in the sternum. “What’s up with you, eh? Got a face like a cat’s arse.”

A big melodramatic sigh. “I’m fine.”  _ Which was Tommy for: ‘I don’t want to talk about it’. _

“Oh, you’re ‘fine’ are you? Yeah?” Tommy gave him a slow nod. “Right. If you say so, sausage.” Alfie let go of his arm and Tommy leaned sullenly against the wall, adjusting his cufflinks. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah.”  _ Which was Tommy for: ‘no, but I don’t want to and I don’t want you to go on about it’. _

Alfie glared at him skeptically, but decided to let it go. Something was up with him, but picking a fight over a missed meal wouldn’t get him out of his sulk. “Hmmn. Alright then. Put the kettle on, will you? We can listen to the National Service, yeah? I’ll read you the paper.” Shrugging, Tommy nonetheless headed resignedly back down the stairs. Alfie watched him go, frowning.

He padded into the parlour to poke up the fire and stopped just past the doorway. There on the floor, placed very deliberately in front of his favourite armchair by the French window, was one of the cushions that usually lived on the sofa. He cocked his head. It wasn’t often Tommy made such a direct request - and yes, by Tommy’s standards, moving an item of soft furnishings was a very direct request, which pretty much summed up Tommy’s entire approach to communication of feelings -  _ but _ if that’s what the silly boy wanted...

Alfie picked up the coal scuttle and tramped back to the bannister. “Oi, Tommy!” No reply. Alfie raised his voice. “ _ Tommy _ !” A metallic thud from the kitchen and then Tommy appeared, glaring up at him. Alfie waved the bucket. “Coal scuttle needs filling, mate. Mind yer ’ead.” He dropped it down for Tommy to catch and gave him just enough time to disappear back out of sight before shouting out again. “And Tommy!”

Tommy stomped back into view.  _ “What?” _ He was getting annoyed. Good. Angry was better than sulking.

“Tea for me, ta.” Alfie grinned sweetly and quickly went back to the parlour before Tommy had a chance to reply. He smirked to himself at the sound of Tommy marching irritably to the back door, then collected his cane from the umbrella stand by the door before settling himself in his armchair with the evening paper. 

Ten minutes later, Tommy was clattering up again, banging something into the walls and bannisters. The parlour door was abruptly kicked open and he barged in, laden down with the full coal scuttle and covered with a dusting of raindrops from outside. A glass tumbler was nestled precariously on top of the coal and he had a bottle of whiskey under his arm, leaving his remaining hand for a mug of tea which he plonked unceremoniously on the dresser next to Alfie. The whiskey and glass went next to it and then he hauled the scuttle over to the fire and knelt to try to rescue the dying fire. Through the whole noisy performance Alfie barely glanced up from his paper, content to let Tommy get on with it without commentary for once. 

Tommy had used up most of the coal by the time the fire was properly banked and crackling cheerfully to itself. He wiped his blackened hands on his handkerchief and came to sit heavily in the armchair on the other side of the window, slightly out of breath. Alfie absent-mindedly picked up the tea from the dresser and went to take a sip before suddenly stopping dead. 

He held the mug up with distaste as if it was filled with piss. “What is  _ this _ ?”

Tommy looked over. Frowned. “It’s y’tea.” 

Alfie snorted. “No it fucking isn’t mate. Tea comes in a cup, with a saucer, don’t it?” He slammed the mug back onto the dresser and lifted his newspaper again. “Fucking go and do it properly.”

He could feel Tommy staring at him. Could practically  _ hear _ the grinding of his teeth as he contemplated whether to do as he was told or to kick up a fuss. They both knew he didn’t actually give a fuck about the mug. In the war, Alfie had once drunk tea out of the blood-spattered helmet of a man he’d just shot. No, it wasn’t about the mug, or even the tea itself. It was about how Tommy was going to respond to his ridiculous demands. 

And to lay on a little more pressure, just when he heard Tommy take a breath to argue the point, Alfie lifted his paper to turn a page and revealed the cane lying in his lap. 

Tommy was silent and still for a long minute. Alfie let him think about it. He wasn’t going to ask again, that would be weakness. Tommy would either do it or he wouldn’t but for now the ball was definitely in his court. He skimmed down the ads for jobs - always useful to know who might be in need of a helping hand - and had moved onto the announcements sections (which he always mentally renamed ‘Hatches, Matches and Dispatches’) before Tommy exhaled sharply through his nose and shook his head, dismissing whatever thought he’d been having in that complex little mind of his. After another few seconds, he got up and wordlessly left the room, taking the mug of tea with him. 

From behind the classifieds, Alfie smiled.

He was back fairly quickly, tramping heavily across the carpet and then sketching a sarcastic bow as he held out the teacup. “Tea. In a cup. With a saucer.” His voice was icily polite. 

Alfie took it and set it on the dresser without looking up from the article he was reading, so that Tommy’s petulant pantomime was totally wasted. With a frustrated huff, Tommy flopped back into his chair and pulled out his cigarette case.

Alfie picked up the teacup and took a sip. He frowned. “Did you just pour this in from that mug?”

“Yeah?” Tommy flicked his lighter, but the spark wasn’t catching. He shook it violently and tried again without success.

“Nah, fuck off, Tommy.” Alfie held the saucer out to him. “It’s gone cold. Fucking take it back and do it right.”

Tommy was seething now. Staring daggers right into the side of Alfie’s head. Again, Alfie twitched the newspaper to show his cane. Tommy took a deep breath. Stood up. ...And took the tea.

“Oh, Tommy?” Alfie said just as he’d reached the parlour door. Tommy stopped and turned, jaw set. Alfie nodded towards the fireplace. “Coal needs topping up, love.”

A flash of utter rage flitted across Tommy’s face before he shut his expression down. Two strides to grab the bucket and three strides to get through the door. Then he threw the bucket down the stairs, stamping his way down every one after it. Alfie shook his head, still amazed by his endless capacity to be wound up. A lesser man might have felt guilty for deliberately needling at someone who’d clearly already had a difficult day, but Alfie had always been able to rise above such trivial concerns. And Tommy was a fucking  _ joy _ to tease because he usually held himself so tightly wrapped under layer after layer of iron-clad self control. Managing to wiggle under that exterior and provoke a reaction was immensely satisfying. And besides, Tommy liked to fuck when he was angry. It was a win-win situation.

By now, the drizzle outside had turned into a deluge, so that when Tommy came back up with the refilled scuttle and a fresh cup of tea, he was drenched. “Ooh, is that my tea?” Alfie cooed at him with a beaming smile. “Cheers, sweetheart, you’re a gent”. 

Tommy dumped the scuttle on the hearth and took his glasses off, shaking the water from them. 

“Is it raining, then?” Alfie asked innocently.

Tommy held his arms out, illustrating just how wet he was from his brief trip to the coalshed. “It is, Alfie, yeah.” He dripped onto the carpet. 

Alfie tutted sympathetically. “You’ll catch your death in those wet clothes, love. Come on; get your kit off.” He plucked at his own shirt as illustration. Tommy glowered at him but he really did need to get changed, so he sullenly shrugged out of his wet jacket and laid it neatly over the back of the sofa. He looked up at Alfie, waiting for the next instruction. And  _ that’s  _ what Alfie had been looking for. No more grumbling and fightback. Just obedience. He sat back in his chair and flicked his fingers imperiously. “I said: get your kit off.”

Tommy looked down at himself and began to unknot his tie. He methodically took off and set aside his tie, waistcoat, shirt and trousers, with all their various accoutrements. He did like his sartorial accessories, that man. In just his socks and underwear, Tommy straightened up and raised eyes to Alfie’s. 

“All the way, Tommy.” Alfie directed, very obviously enjoying every moment. Wordlessly, Tommy stripped naked, placed his clothes tidily along with the rest and then stood in a beautiful parade rest, staring dead ahead into the mid-distance. Alfie’s heart soared. Fucking hell, he was a lucky lucky man to have been given a beautiful gift like Thomas Shelby. 

He picked up his cane and beckoned with a finger. “Come here.” Tommy stepped forward to stand in front of his chair, just behind the cushion he’d placed on the floor earlier. Alfie pointed at it with the cane. Tommy dropped to his knees.

And  _ that _ was a very fucking pretty thing  _ indeed _ .

Alfie relaxed back into his chair and used his cane to prod Tommy in the sternum. “Now you, Tommy, have been a very moody cunt this evening. Which has quite ruined the atmosphere of comfort and relaxation in which I was hoping to repose tonight. So I think you owe me a little apology, don’t you?” He ran the tip of the cane down Tommy’s body speculatively, considering his options. Tommy licked his lips while he waited to be told what to do. And whether that had been an intentional signal, or just an unconscious tic, it settled the decision for Alfie. He unbuttoned his flies and brought his cock out for Tommy. Thickening up nicely already, but not quite hard yet. In his defence, he wasn’t as young as he used to be, and it hadn’t taken nearly as long as he’d expected to get Tommy into this state.

They both looked at it, neither moving. Eventually, Alfie clicked his tongue impatiently. “Well fucking get on with it, then.” He gave Tommy a poke with the cane. Tommy gazed up at him with those sinful blue eyes and licked his lips again, gently placing his hands onto Alfie’s thighs and shuffling closer in on his knees. And without breaking eye contact, slowly lowered his mouth down over Alfie’s cock. 

He was a fucking dream come true.

Alfie liked to think of himself as a bit of an  _ artist _ when it came to sucking cock. He applied himself with concentration, dedication and years of deliberately-practiced skill to bring about the precise overall effect that he’d intended, whether that was hours of slow, blissful, squirming teasing or a race to get it done as fast as possible before they were caught. He had an arsenal of techniques at his disposal and employed every one to the best of his ability. 

Tommy, on the other hand, was one of those people who just had a natural god-given gift for it. Not necessarily any conscious technique, but plenty of common sense, determination and above all - enthusiasm. And fucking hell, it could be incredible. 

He was settling into a good performance now; plenty of that flexible tongue and enough suction to get those lovely slurping noises. Alfie nodded happily down at him. “Oh that’s lovely, that is. Yeah, keep going with that.” He shifted in his chair, settling in to enjoy himself.

And Tommy  _ liked _ it. If the way he happily set to his task wasn’t a big enough clue, then his obvious erection was a pretty clear indicator. He reached down to touch himself but Alfie tapped him in the side of the head with his cane. “Oi, get your fucking hands back where I can see them, you dirty fucker. None of that.” No, no. Work first. Reward after. 

Tommy rolled his eyes but dutifully put his hands back onto Alfie’s thighs and returned his attention to the task at hand. 

“I think that I deserve a bit more of an apology than that, Tommy, eh? Come on, I know you can do better.” Alfie offered a little ‘encouragement’, by laying his cane across the back of Tommy’s neck and applying some pressure. “Down you go. Don’t fight it, love.” Tommy put in some resistance at first, gagging a little; but then relaxed his jaw and let himself be pushed down. “That’s it… good boy…” Alfie murmured at him. He could feel the muscles of Tommy’s throat working rhythmically around the head of his cock. And good fucking God almighty, but the fact that Tommy would do this to him more than made up for the odd bullet in the face. Not that he’d ever,  _ ever _ admit that out loud. In fact, he’d be perfectly happy to keep collecting on that shot for the rest of his life if it meant more of this. 

Tommy dragged him from his thoughts with a savage dig of his fingernails into his thighs. Alfie glanced down at him, taking a mental photograph of those lips stretched wide around his cock, eyes watering, face slowly pinkening with the effort of keeping himself in place. He let go of one end of the cane and Tommy surged back up, dragging in a huge breath before coughing hard, saliva streaming from his open mouth. One of his hands went to the head of Alfie’s cock, keeping up the contact while he caught his breath and flexed his jaw. “ _ Good _ boy,” Alfie stroked his hair back out of his eyes, petting him as if he was a dog. And Tommy actually nudged his head closer into that touch, seeking out the comfort and reassurance. 

Alfie ran his fingers around the curve of Tommy’s ear and followed his jawline to his mouth, hooking two fingers over his bottom teeth. Tommy’s panting breaths warmed the back of his hand. His tongue lapped at Alfie’s fingers, reminding him of what it could do. And who was Alfie to ignore such an obvious hint, eh? He took a firm handful of hair and used it to manhandle Tommy’s head to the left and back down onto his cock at a slightly better angle for him. Not all the way down this time, but just holding him in place so that his lips and tongue could lap and suck at the tip of him while his hand worked the length. Alfie rocked his hips a little, easing himself in and out of Tommy’s mouth. 

“Oi! Where’s that hand going?” He gave Tommy’s head a little shake and guiltily, Tommy snatched his hand back from between his legs. “That’s right. Don’t think I won’t fucking notice,” Alfie warned him. With his mouth full of cock, Tommy shuffled on his knees and gripped Alfie’s thighs firmly with both hands. “For that, you can go down again.” Alfie took his cane in both hands and pressed down on the back of Tommy’s neck once more. “Just relax,” he coaxed as Tommy pushed against him to get one last lungful of air. “ _ Relax _ , Tom.” And then, a moment later: “fuuuuck, there you go...” when Tommy gave in and opened his throat. 

Alfie held him there for three of his own slow breaths and then let him up before he started to struggle. He wasn’t a  _ complete _ cunt, after all. Tommy gasped for air but went back to sucking almost immediately. He looked up through his lashes and lowered his head, watching Alfie watch him swallow his cock. Twin tears tracked down his cheeks and a long string of drool swung from his chin. He gagged, came up for a breath and then sank straight back down again. Alfie sucked in a long breath through his teeth.

Yeah. This wasn’t going to last much longer.

Alfie let Tommy surface in his own time, gazing down at him reverentially, almost too overcome to direct him any further. But that wouldn’t do. He gathered what was left of his wits and trailed the tip of his cane up Tommy’s body before settling it once more at the back of his neck. “Come on Tommy, one last push, eh?” Eager blue eyes flashed up at him. Two quick squeezes at his thighs. Their signal:  _ yes yes _ . Alfie nodded and steadily pushed down with his cane. Tommy went more easily now; mind and muscles adjusted to it. Alfie felt the cool rush of air sucked past his cock as Tommy snatched in one last breath before his trachea was blocked. And then he was all the way in and surrounded by that astonishing heat and flexing grip. It was perfection.

Alfie’s hips rocked up into Tommy’s mouth, choking him further. He knew this must be uncomfortable, but… well, it felt fucking phenomental from his side of things. And Tommy knew what to do to make it stop if he wanted to. Mind you, he was a stubborn fucker. If he’d decided to do a thing, that thing usually got done, even if he hated every minute of it. Tommy Shelby wasn’t a man who turned away from a challenge. Once, they’d been doing something similar to this and Tommy had pushed himself to unconsciousness rather than tap out. That had been one hell of a confusing orgasm. 

Speaking of which… 

He eased up on the cane for a moment, giving Tommy just enough time to snatch a couple of precious breaths before forcing him back down again. There was more struggle now, which only made it better, really. Tommy’s cheeks were wet with tears. Snot streamed from his nose. His face was bright pink and the tension in his neck and shoulders was clearly visible. He was fucking beautiful and Alfie wanted - needed to come in him. To make him his own. Again. He was so fucking close. His hips jerked. Tommy gagged loudly. “You can do it,” Alfie panted at him. “Just a little bit more, love.” He thrust up again and Tommy choked again. “Yeah,” Alfie huffed out. “Fuck yes. Fuck!” 

He let go of the cane entirely and gripped at the arms of his chair while his body shook through his climax. The cane went clattering to the floor as Tommy burst off his cock, catching the first pulse of come over his tongue and chin, and the second over his neck. He lowered his head, panting and exhausted and took the rest over his face - which was about as perfect an outcome that could be, as far as Alfie was concerned.

Tommy sat back on his heels, gasping, with the white stripes gleaming starkly on his pinkly flushed skin. He flexed his jaw, one eye half closed with a bead of come on his eyelid. Alfie groaned aloud. It should be fucking illegal to look like that. Not that Tommy had ever previously paid any attention to the law. He grasped Tommy’s hands before he could wipe at his face. “Fucking hell, you are fucking gorgeous, love.”

“Yeah. Pretty as a fucking picture.” Tommy drawled sarcastically. He glanced around the room, tugging gently to get his hands free - looking for something to clean up with. 

Alfie held him firmly. “Mmmn, yeah. I really need to get a camera someday.” Fuck, that was an idea… He could knock up a darkroom in one of the bedrooms upstairs. Get someone in to teach him picture development… Ideas unfurled.

Tommy’s head whipped back round to glare at him. “You’re  _ not _ taking pictures of me looking like this Alfie.”

“If you say so, love. If you say so.” Alfie agreed easily. Tommy pulled harder to get away, but Alfie just tightened his grip on his wrists. “Nah, nah. Hold on a moment. Listen to me.” He waited until Tommy stopped struggling. “Now. Do you want to come?” 

It was a ridiculous question. Tommy must be achingly hard and ‘forcing’ him to do anything always turned him into a horny little sod. Tommy scoffed and mumbled something unintelligible. Which he knew wasn’t allowed. Alfie cocked his head. “What was that, Tommy? Didn’t quite catch it.”

“Yes, I want to come.” Tommy growled with exaggerated enunciation. 

Alfie nodded. “So obviously, you need to leave all  _ that _ ,” he let go of one wrist to gesture broadly at all of Tommy’s come-laden face, “exactly as it is, yeah?” Tommy rolled his eyes but was unsurprised by the order - he was familiar enough with what Alfie liked by now. He nodded his understanding. Alfie’s spent cock twitched. That kind of desperate, hasty acquiescence was just… everything that was sexy in the world. Put that into Tommy Shelby’s body and… Well. 

“Mmmn... alright. Go on, then.” He pretended to consider his options - as if there was any chance he would say no - before letting Tommy go and flicking his hand in a dismissive wave.

Tommy frowned at him, confused. “What, just…?” He indicated down at himself with a questioning glance.

“That’s right.” Alfie confirmed nonchalantly.

“You mean you want me to… just…”

“Yes.” There was a pause. “I assume you know how?” Alfie asked, trying to hide his amusement with little success. Tommy blushed and nodded, looking down at the floor. “Well get on with it, then.” Alfie took a sip of his cooling tea and waited. On his knees in front of him, Tommy hesitantly took hold of his erection and gave it a few cautious strokes. He was probably afraid this was a trap. Which, to be fair, wasn’t an entirely unreasonable assumption, going on past experiences. 

Alfie waited until he’d built himself up into a steady rhythm, and then picked his newspaper back up, flicking through the pages to find his place. 

The soft noises of Tommy’s wanking faltered and stuttered to nothing.

Alfie lowered the paper. Tommy was still kneeling. Still holding his cock. But totally still, waiting obediently for instruction. “You’ve stopped. Changed your mind, have you?”

“Well… you…” Tommy’s fingertips flicked at the edge of the newspaper. “I thought…?” God, he sounded so  _ young _ . So uncertain. Again, Alfie’s cock twitched in his lap. 

He shrugged and raised his paper between them again, turning to a new page. “Just gimme a shout when you’re almost there, yeah?”

“I--” Tommy started to protest.

“Just fucking get on with it, Tommy!” Alfie snapped impatiently, not bothering to move the paper and look at him. 

He was grateful for the barrier in the long silence that followed. It stretched out so long that he ran all the way from uncaring imperious dictator and anticipation, through worry and into lip-chewing anxiety that he’d misjudged Tommy’s mood or pushed him too far. He was just considering dropping the act to check he was okay, when the subtle sound of skin on skin drifted to his ears. Relieved, he exhaled the breath he’d been holding. “Good boy,” he said quietly, unable to hold himself back from giving Tommy some kind of feedback. 

The sounds continued with more confidence.

And fuck, Alfie’d properly painted himself into a corner here, hadn’t he? Set up the most beautiful tableau of Tommy on his knees, sweaty and snotty and covered in saliva and semen, wanking himself off basically in the middle of the room. And he’d put himself behind a fucking screen so he couldn’t see any of it. Pillock. **

“Oh look, they’ve discovered another planet. Calling it Pluto. Now why would you name a planet in the sky after the fucking god of the underworld, eh? Bloody silly thing to call it. How’re you getting on?” He tacked the question on the end of his rambling comment like the aglet at the end of a whip. Virtually inconspicuous but sharp enough to draw blood.

“Uh...” Tommy was breathing harder now. His hand moving fast and steady. Alfie imagined that he was desperately trying to keep his erection in the midst of this bizarre scene. He started to plan his next moves for when Tommy was forced to admit defeat. 

“Yeah, well keep at it.” Alfie instructed him disinterestedly. He turned a page. From behind the paper, Tommy let out the softest of groans. Alfie  _ knew _ that sound. That was Tommy’s equivalent of moaning outright in pure ecstasy. He was turned on.  _ Really _ turned on. And wasn’t  _ that _ interesting? Was he getting off on being ignored? Alfie had intended to give him a difficult task that he’d have to be rescued from, so that he could come sweeping back in and give him the orgasm that he wanted but couldn’t manage to give himself. But it seemed that somehow this was actually  _ working _ for him. Hmmn... 

Curious, Alfie picked another story from the paper. “Huh. Looks like they’ve picked a new boss of the Reichsbank. Hans Luther. He’s the bloke that sorted out the Jerries’ inflation troubles. Brought in the Reichsmark. Clever man. That’ll interest your mate Moseley, I bet.” He paused to listen to Tommy’s rapid wanking. “You doing alright, there?”

A strained little huff floated on top of the wet sounds of Tommy’s masturbation. Every bit of Alfie was screaming at him to put the fucking paper down and watch Tommy working himself over. Of all the kinks for the bloody man to have, it had to be one that denied Alfie the chance of seeing him get off to it, didn’t it? Always had to be an awkward fucker. He took a breath to steady himself. Okay, okay… How would Tommy like to get off?

He browsed through the paper again, pausing for another mouthful of tea. Actually, the tea seemed to be a good touch, from the way Tommy’s breath hitched a moment later. So not just the ignoring, but doing normal things while Tommy was naked and wanking? Maybe that was it? 

Stalling for time - and acutely aware of the pace and quality of the noises Tommy was making, Alfie scanned for something else to talk about. “Fucking hell… says here that they’re thinking of digging a tunnel between England and France. What the fuck would you wanna go and do that for, eh? There’d be bloody frogs all over the fucking place.”

Tommy whined. Actually  _ whined _ . “Alfie, I…”

“Hmmn?” Alfie pretended he hadn’t been paying attention. He still didn’t lower the paper. Fucking hell, forget about teasing Tommy, this was getting close to torture for him. “Oh, are you nearly done?” he asked, his tone all innocence and indifference. 

Tommy panted a couple of breaths. “Yeah. Yeah, I just--” Fuck, he really did sound close. He risked a glance over the top of the paper. Tommy was sweating, despite being naked in a large room. His hair was damp with it and Alfie’s come had nearly dried on his face into shining smears. The head of his cock was a deep desperate red when it flashed into view between his frantically pumping fingers. He looked up at Alfie open-mouthed, silently pleading with him. 

Alfie flapped a hand at him and issued some quick orders off the top of his head. “Stand up then. On your feet. Just here, like that, yeah.” He positioned Tommy to the left of his chair, standing facing him at attention - in every sense of the word. “Good boy. Carry on.” It was a crying shame, but Alfie forced himself to look back at the fucking newspaper. Besides him, right  _ there _ in his peripheral vision like some kind of fairytale fae wetdream, Tommy obediently resumed his wanking. “Ask nicely for permission when you’re there,” Alfie added as an afterthought - a suggestion that made Tommy’s body visibly twitch. 

A minute or two later, Tommy whispered hoarsely, “Alfie. Can I…? Alfie,  _ please _ …” 

_ Oh fuck yes, Tommy, come for me. Come all over my fucking face and let me drown in your fucking beauty, _ Alfie’s mind raged in his head. Instead, he turned a page and asked casually, “Can you what, Tommy?”

A desperate gasp. “Please, can I come?” Tommy’s hand had almost stilled, just squeezing tight at the head of his cock, now putting the effort into holding back.

Alfie couldn’t take it any longer. He  _ needed _ to see. He made a show of closing and folding up the newspaper and looked earnestly at Tommy over the top of his glasses. “You want to come?”

Tiny rapid nods that sent drops of sweat flinging into the air. “Please, Alfie. Please let me come.”

“You want to come, is it?” Alfie persisted, just to be a bastard. 

“Yes.” Tommy’s eyes were screwed up tight, every breath dragged through clenched teeth. Fuck. yes. Alfie-- fuck!” His body jerked and he had to support himself with a hand on the back of the armchair to keep upright. 

He was so fucking perfect.

Alfie held his right hand palm-up in front of his chest, just in front of Tommy’s cock. “Alright then, well you just put it here for me, nice and tidy like.” he tapped his palm.

“In your…?” Tommy asked, confused and breathless. “Right there?”

Alfie nodded seriously. “Right here, Tommy.” He had the utmost pleasure in watching Tommy shuffle forward half a step and line up his cock with his waiting hand. He pumped at himself industriously, biting his lip and looking down through the fall of hair that flopped over his eyes. After a minute or so Alfie pursed his lips and glanced up at him with some well-acted scorn. “Uh… In your own time, mate...” he said. As if he had better things to do. As if anything better could possibly exist. 

The disdain did it. “Hah! Oh fuck…!” Tommy huffed out a gasp and then he was coming. Groaning from deep in his chest and pulsing thickly over Alfie’s hand. Globs spattered out, landed on Alfie’s wrist and started to run down the inside of his arm. Tommy was moaning, holding himself up on the back of the chair and squeezing out little extra pearls of come with long slow strokes of his fingers. 

“ _ There _ you go.” Alfie crooned encouragingly at him when he started to come. “That’s a good lad. Get it all out for me. Good boy.” He put a steadying hand to Tommy’s hip, feeling the vibrating tension strumming through his body. “That’s a  _ good boy _ .” 

“Fuuuck…” Tommy whispered through a throat that was completely fucked.

“Come back down here now, eh?” Alfie took his hand and brought him back to his cushion in front of the chair. Back to his knees. “That’s a boy.” Tommy flopped forwards into Alfie’s lap, hiding his face, clutching at his thighs and breathing hard. Alfie stroked him with his clean hand, holding his right out awkwardly to one side, completely dripping with Tommy’s come. His mind was kaleidoscoping through a hundred different things to do with that hand. All of them filthy. All of them so appealing. Fuck, he really needed to add this to his regular repertoir - the possibilities were just so much fun. 

In his lap, Tommy was surfacing a little. His breathing had steadied and he peered cautiously up from behind his arms. Alfie ran a gentle finger over his tear-streaked cheek. “There now. Look at what you did.” He brought his right hand down to Tommy’s level. They both looked at it for a moment. “That’s a nice pretty handful, isn’t it?” Alfie prompted. Tommy nodded, sniffing. The next step was obvious: “So clean it up then, eh?” 

“Nuh, uh!” Alfie snatched his hand back when Tommy reached up with fingers outstretched. “Use your tongue, Tommy.” He put his hand back in front of Tommy’s face and waited expectantly. Tommy looked at the cooling hand and then glanced up at Alfie to see how serious he was. “Go on.” Alfie nudged him. Would he do it? Tommy was not much of a cumslut. He  _ did _ swallow, but usually only if it was already in his mouth. Would this be too much for him?

Tommy delicately extended his tongue from between those soft pink lips. He lapped at the side of Alfie’s hand, his nose wrinkling at the taste. Another pleading look to Alfie, who took some pity on him. “Do you want some help?” he asked, and didn’t bother to wait for a response before bringing his thumb to his mouth and sucking it clean. Tommy’s eyes widened, jaw dropping slightly at the sight. Alfie smacked his lips emphatically. “Share?” he offered. 

A tiny nod. 

He held out two fingers to Tommy’s lips and just about managed to stop himself from giving into the impulse to rub the whole handful over his pretty pretty face. Tommy took his fingers into his mouth, tongue flicking up between them in a way that went directly to Alfie’s cock. Alfie licked up the trail that was running down his arm and returned his hand to Tommy who took care of his other two fingers. Alfie got the bit running round the back of his hand, leaving the main pool in his palm for Tommy, who licked at it uncertainly. “All of it, mind,” Alfie told him, momentarily sideswiped by his own mind’s image of him and Tommy sharing a cock together, licking come off each other’s faces. Lapping it up from each other’s bodies. 

_ Fucking hell… _

Tommy gave one last long lick and then sat back on his heels. “Good boy,” Alfie praised him, with a gentle ruffling of his hair from his clean hand. “Open up?” Tommy opened his mouth widely, even raising his tongue to prove that every drop had been swallowed. Now where had he learned  _ that _ from? “Oh, that’s a  _ good _ boy.” Alfie told him with absolute sincerity. “That’s a lovely sight. Very very nice.” 

He took Tommy’s hand and drew him up from his knees, suddenly aware that he was naked and was probably getting chilled by now. He patted his lap. “Come up here, then. Come and have a cwtch.” 

Tommy climbed up onto the armchair next to him, There was just about room if they squished and Tommy put his legs across Alfie’s lap. Alfie pulled a decorative lightweight blanket from the back of the chair and arranged it around Tommy’s shoulders. “There.” Tommy curled against him, one hand posessively across his chest. Alfie took it and twined their fingers, rubbing soft circles into Tommy’s palm. You feel better now?” 

“Yeah.” Tommy cleared his throat. “Thank you.” He squeezed Alfie’s fingers. 

“Fucking hell, you don’t have to  _ thank _ me, Tommy. You know I’m happy to be a bastard to you any time you want, love.” Alfie pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

A twitch of a smile. “Yeah. But… thank you.”

“Mmmn. My pleasure.” Alfie ran his hand down Tommy’s leg, right down to the end of his little toe. Fuck, he was so lovely to touch. He’d never ever get tired of putting his hands on him. “So what got you in such a mood, eh?”

Tommy sighed heavily. “The usual. Work. Business. Fascists. Americans. Germans.” He shrugged. Alfie knew that he was finding the strain of it all stressful - but really, when had Tommy Shelby ever  _ not _ been stressed? He thrived on adversity. Lived for the moment that months-long plans came to fruition and everything seemed to hang in the balance by a thread of spider silk before crashing into pandemonium and murder. And then somehow, the slippery bastard always wiggled through the net and came out of the chaos not only virtually untouched, but usually in a better position than he’d been in before. It was uncanny.

But that didn’t make it easy.

Alfie squeezed him sympathetically. “Such is the life of the rich and powerful, my friend. Now me, I’m very happy to be dead and well out of all of the nonsense of the real world.” He waved his hand at the window and the ship on the horizon that would probably have been his main interest this evening, had Tommy not shown up.

From deep in his own thoughts, Tommy sighed. “Sometimes I really think about joining you.”

“Oi.” Alfie poked him sharply. “None of that, ta.” He tapped an admonishment on Tommy’s nose and then slapped briskly at his thigh. “Come on, gypsy-boy. Bedtime.” With a shove, he dislodged Tommy from his lap and hauled himself to his feet, joints creaking in protest. 

“It’s barely midnight.” Tommy complained, gathering up his clothes.

“Yeah, well we don’t have to sleep, do we?” Alfie told him. “But my back is demanding that whatever I do next, I do it fucking horizontal.” It was true. While every single moment of this evening had been a bloody delight, the muscles in Alfie’s back were letting him know that they were  _ not happy _ about him getting so worked up in such a slouching position. He was going to be limping tomorrow for sure. 

“Oh well, if your back insists…” Tommy drawled at him, with a smile. “I’m sure we’ll find something to entertain us while you’re lying flat. Maybe I’ll read the paper, eh?”

Alfie swiped a playful jab at him. “Fuck off, cheeky sod.” He slapped Tommy’s backside. “Go on, I want to watch your arse going up those stairs.”

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I will admit that this one was a bit of an effort and I'm not very convinced that it's come out how I wanted.
> 
> Please let me know if you liked it! I'm also always up for ideas and prompts if you have any scenes you'd like to see from these two. 
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


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